After school, I always get serious hunger attacks. My grandparents, "popo" and "gong-gong" try their best to feed us. Great. I know they mean well, but Sophia_Asteria and myself, really cannot stand any type of food that they bring us. Gong-gong, my grandfather had the bright idea of bringing us their chinese specialties in a convenient thermos. On the way home, I would sit in the back seat of their rickety-rackety 2002 Ford van and examine the contents in the thermos. With one quick turn of cap, I could tell it was going to be anything but appetizing. The aroma stunk of old produce, chicken stock and their musty old home.
I took one whiff, and my 6 year old self knew that my stomach was going to turn and I would throw up. I decided to quickly dispose of the contents in a nearby plastic bag without being noticed. As Gong-gong was driving along the busy city streets, I carefully emptied the contents in the bag. I then proceeded to throw the bag in the back of the car. By the way, you need to understand that the back of the car was already stinky and full of various types of trash, so me adding to the collection of trash wouldn't make much of a difference. I felt powerful. I mean, I was 6 years old and I had enough sense to come up with such a genius hack for getting rid of that awful food. This event repeated itself on multiple occasions, until there was a pile of plastic grocery bags filled with Gong-gong's specialties.
One day, he picked me up and I was surprised and relieved to find out that there was no food waiting for me. When we got home he said nothing, but instructed me to remove all of the plastic smelly bags out of the car. At this point there were ants all over the car picking away at the food.
He frowned and yelled some expletives in chinese and my thoughtful thermos became history and I never saw it or heard of it again.